


Golden Mockingbirds

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Implied Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark, Mentioned Joffrey Baratheon, Minor Joffrey Baratheon/Margaery Tyrell, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Petyr has been trying to help, Petyr is a swag bitch, References to Depression, Rough Kissing, She finally listens, Smoking, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-07-25 12:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It all started with his golden ring. The hot seal that binded them like devil and angel. Five promises for each bird engraved on the thin band."Promise me Petyr?""Anything, sweetling."





	1. Mint and Lemon

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really just that a-hole who doesn't finish stories (jk)  
I plan on finishing this one, debating if it'll be 3 or 2 chapters tho—idk yet.

The door clicked. Locks shifting to their respected places, fingers brushing over the old wood. A heavy sigh of relief escaping from below. Feigned tears now gone and dried. Instead of a frown, a smile took it's place, spreading along soft lips. Jaw easing, a burn starting at the back of her throat, a good feeling. A giddy one, one that she could no longer keep down.  
Glancing around the room, back now placed against the door, before the laughter of solace spilled from her. Spilled into the empty room that stood away from the party, secluded from watching eyes.  
  
She felt free, yet it was fleeting. A plume of smoke had filtered pass the window, catching her attention, warnings blaring in her head to leave. Heart dropping as a dim light radiated from the strangers cigarette. White teeth shinning under the given light from the moon. A obvious smirk pulling at the edges of their mouth. There was no point in leaving, she knew exactly who it was. By the click of teeth, by the color of silver in his hair. Those barely green laughing eyes. His head was tilted up, body laying comfortably above the plastic covered furniture. Legs crossed and whiskey in hand, the benign chuckle filling out over the room, her giddy thoughts now gone. Replaced with a strange heat.

"I probably startled you, little wolf." he stated, knowing far to well that he did. "I thought of leaving, but then I probably would have scared you off. Figured best you just find me on your own." He said, body moving from the chair toward the window. The only window, where the moon shinned, contrasting perfectly with him and his clothes. Black velvet tinted just right, the black part of his hair glinting under the given light. His eyes gleaming devilishly, staring right through her when he turned around.

Petyr Baelish, the money man—the accountant.

She had always known him, he was her first boss after all. The first and only boss, the sole being who treated her like she wasn't some object. An actual human, something the Lions didn't seem to associate her with. "Mr. Baelish—I didn't expect to find anyone else here." She admitted, voice wavering with a fleeting doubt of her own words. In earnest, she hadn't hoped anybody to find her. Those pompous employees and rival CEOs, staring at her like they were better. Like their dirtied hands made them better than clean ones she managed to keep.  
Yet, she found herself quite relieved that he had found her. Glad that the only person who had found her relishing in the given freedom from which came with a marriage proposal of another, was him. The single man who wouldn't rat her out to old Tywin. Felt that deep down, she wanted to meet him either way, now or later. It was the mystery he brought to himself, the air he basked in, hiding something that lured her towards him. Deep in her thoughts, she hadn't realized how close he'd gotten. How his free hand brushed over her bare shoulder before holding her arm lightly. The smoke from his cigarette blowing just to the side of her face. Mint and whiskey filling the air around them. His laughing eyes scanning over her body, lips crooked as he inhaled more smoke.

"You think you're free of them? Oh Sansa, I wish I could tell you—you were." His words held truth, that same flat voice he always used when trying to cover his emotions. Although, his words left her confused. Lost and distant. Despite their close proximity, even he seemed to fade a little. Yet, he held her their. The touch of his hand, feeling his presence, it was keeping her grounded. Her only friend showing comfort, for something she was still unaware of.

"What—what do you mean?" She felt her voice waver, it was strange. It was mere moments ago, where the dusty room was bathing in the same happiness she felt, now it was joining her in this sudden drop. Like someone took her by the hands and told her everything would be alright, only to push her off. Then again, he was here, and he wasn't finished. By the look of his eyes, a look she knew well, an idea was brewing in his mind. Green eyes growing ever brighter, the glint of sadness fading. " Sansa, sweetling, you're an absolute prize. The eldest Stark, an heir to one of the biggest companies. They need you, Little wolf." She felt his hand draw circles on her arm, his eyes straying only for a moment as he spoke. The blush on his face coming from the alcohol, and other obvious things. The vulgar actions didn't bother her, she was searching for comfort, and he was the perfect person to recieve that from.  
"They don't care, they're the Lannisters. The company who has probably the most money in the world; why would they need a Stark?" The gears were turning in her head, though she was just trying to deny the truth. Deny the fact that she was barely free of the Lion's claws. It took her a moment to notice the grin that formed, as he started to smile when she spoke. The air caught in her lungs, the press of soft lips, a trail of fire spreading along her neck. He lifted his head close to her ear, the once fruity laughing voice now gravelly with amusement.

"Sansa, dear I believe you know exactly why. How about we a make deal, hm?" His voice was refreshing, oddly felt good to her ears. The tapping of his finger against the door radiating throughout the room, the smell of mint taking away the dying scent of ash. "Except their all on your terms. Just ask me what you want done, and I'll do it. I bet most of your goals will meet with mine anyways. Now all you have to do is set up our deal." She looked at him, fully taking him in. Staring at his ash dusted temples, drinking in his laughing eyes, her own eyes falling on his whiskey glazed lips. This was the first of their many deals, the beginning of many later encounters. That was something she was sure of, and Sansa felt that he had planned it that way anyways.

Especially when he finally let his lips fall onto hers, when she let her hand slide into his hair. When she was pressed back against the door and their free hands had found each other, intertwining as they both got lost in pent up tension. He did plan things, that was the type of man Petyr was. Always pulling strings and never getting credit for it, making dollars fall from the sky like rain so the company could rise in stock just like how he rose in power.  
  
Abruptly, they left the door. His back now against the chair he had emerged from, the glass of whiskey now spilled on the floor. How long had he wanted her? How long had she ached for someone to want her, for him to want her? In prior years, he was only her boss. The only other man she had let in her life after half of the men in her family died. The single man who had kissed her, showed her what was waiting for her if she just left pathetic Joffrey Baratheon. His little wolf, his sweetling. His everything.

They pulled apart, searching for air. A smile forming, the soft chuckle escaping them both. "I guess I couldn't help myself." He said, laughing as they both thought about their current situation. Sansa waited so long, her body waited until her mind could set things straight. In the heat they created, she breathed out what words she could.  
"Promise me something Petyr?" He pulled her closer, their hands still joined, the silver rings digging into fine porcelain skin. "Anything, sweetling." He said, the mask he wore so confidently being chipped away, seeing the Petyr who had promised her a better life those few years ago. "Promise me you will teach me how to play the game, how to give the Lannisters hell. Promise me you'll stay—" his mouth had taken hers, the soft moans of relief filling their private sanctuary. The party outside no longer important, drowned out by the comfort she needed. Sansa would've been fine just laughing away her pain, if he never showed, she would have been fine just getting drunk—but even then, her drunk self probably would have found Mr. Baelish and they would be in the same situation they were in now.

What a manipulator, Sansa thought. Her lips curving into a smile as she kissed him. Her only free hand determined on messing up his hair. The other occupied with his own digits, as he slid a seal of their deal over her delicate fingers. His only golden ring. The one with golden mockingbirds.  
  


When she found herself the next morning, under the soft blankets, it was there. The reminder of what they did, what they planned. The feeling was there, the good burn that bubbled low in her gut and threatened to spill from her mouth. And spill it did, a different laughter. One that was shared with only herself.

  



	2. Wine and Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two more of their meetings and a little mouse working by a lion

The prattle of rain pommelling against glass, fabricated laughter muted by the walls.  
It was resting there, minting a mark deep into her fare skin. Twisting it over and over with unease, staring at it off and on, looking to the rain outside. The golden wear had rested there for weeks, and it would remain there.  
Sansa lifted the glass. Her eyes settling on the grey scenery outside. The wedding was in two days, and so far she had found herself lucky of avoiding the crowd. Secluding herself to hallways and rooms that were barren during the banquets.  
All nothing except for her, and of course him. He made his presence known. Acting as if he didn't know she stood there, a facetious crooked grin laying upon his lips.

Always alluring, adorning his silver streaks of hair and pearly teeth. A hand wrapped around her waist, a tug from behind, the lofty chuckle making her shiver and heat all the same. The brush of stubble soft against her neck, his short cool breaths easing her.

"People are going to think the main attraction left, little wolf." He said with a whisper, the shine of his teeth reflecting against the glass. It was contagious, him smiling all the time. It seemed where ever he was, a smile would lay on his face, either mocking or true. She let herself fall into him, the warmth of his body luring her. Falling into the same embrace he had always offered her—stood by with his arms waiting for her, cold with the missing piece.  
"The main attraction is tired of acting like they give a fuck." He chuckled again, never laughing, nor his voice ever above the gentle hum.

"Sansa, you'll be missing out on the best wedding. Your breath will be caught by the rich boy's speech. It's so well thought, he won't even be able to finish." She turned around in his hold, the stare of green eyes looking at her with a lingering smirk. Her hand fisting a piece of his suit, the musk of mint and smoke filling her nose. A question laid on her tongue and sat in her mind. An itch to ask what he was planning, a feeling of wanting to know how his mind worked. Such a smart man surrounded by fools, just as she.  
His lips careful and tender, a gentle press to her forehead before his eyes settled back on her. The touch of heat that settled between them, a radiating need forming below both of their waists. Those laughing eyes were hot with lust and queer intent.

"Only two more parties, sweetling. The last one is soon, and the first part of our little deal will be fulfilled." He said, voice modulated and neat. Different from when he was lost in the taste of alcohol, or lost in the taste of her lips. So professional, to anyone elses view they were simply chatting in the halls. The hidden places that were practically forgotten. Another kiss he laid, the taste of want lingering between them as his mouth finally met hers. A fast spread of need and aching for touch. The feel of his smile dancing on her lips as they feasted on each others tastes. Lemon and mint. Wine and whiskey.  
Petyr, a peculiar man. A manipulator, though when around her, he allowed himself to have the strings pulled by she. Let her have fun with him, play with what he had to offer. He was heartless, but he had stolen her heart, just as she did his.  
Sansa, a malleable woman. A girl who could learn and mold into something better. Although, the beauty she saw in him, was the darkness he'd seen in her. The key he had had, an opening to a lock she kept shut tight from a time she was a child. Hidden away when she was told such impure thoughts and actions were wrong.  
More reason she had found herself pulled to him, he let her see being unacceptable was acceptable. Being a little twisted was just the way people got by in the world.

Petyr Baelish—Sansa Stark, A balance.

They pulled away from each other, twisted smiles from their twisted love. The sound of a light chortle echoing throughout the hall, their heads finding rest upon one another.

"I can't believe I've spent so many days without your touch, sweetling." He said, breath hot on her ear. Words threaded with secrets he only knew. The touch of his hand brushing through a strand of her auburn hair. A touch of cold silver nipping at warm flesh, eyes adverting before glancing back.  
Petyr had the smile of fox, as he let his hand feel hers, as his moss green eyes searched the blue seas in front of him.  
"Petyr, you can't be giving me another gift?" Sansa spoke, looking down at the clean silver that rested on her neck. Another wear, a beautiful necklace with a blue gem resting in the middle.  
  
" A small gift, a cheers to our little deal." He shrugged, his hand giving hers a light squeeze before pulling away. Sansa reached for his rest tugging him, "Petyr—our agreement didn't involve gifts and luxuries." He smiled turning to her, leaning slightly into her hold, lips going crooked with another grin.  
"It's just a gift, little wolf." He chided playfully, his hand shooing the air. Their hands switching over each other as he twirled her out of his arms. Landing right where he had found her. Striding away, sly hands hidden within the pant pockets and a crooked smile playing at the edges of his lips. "You should drink less wine, sweetling." He jested, waving her goodbye, leaving her to run gentle fingers over another piece of jewelry.

***

  


  
The short stature, the strict voice, and their father's eyes. It was her, discovered under an unspoken part of their little agreement. It was she, Arya. Standing like a woman and carrying herself like one too.  
Digits moved deftly over the files and photos. Wine coloring her lips, a warm hand Drawing circles over the back of her sweater, the cool breath of mint coming from abaft. His green eyes waiting for her response. "I knew it was someone familiar, she had the Stark look. I'm just surprised she managed to get a position so close to Tywin." He spoke into the silent air, voice brushing over her neck. Shifting closer, bodies settling with warmth.  
Sansa's thoughts were scattered, mind cracking under a built up pressure, released and wiped away tears. Eyes of deep blue skimming over the pages, again and again, foster care and adoption screaming from the page.

Barely reaching her twenties, she knew well that getting her little brother and sister was not allowed. Gently, her head laid against his chest, the beating of his heart calm beneath her.

A sigh escaped between both, falling into the need of comfort.

"I thought—I thought they didn't make it." It was murmur only for his ears not the white walls of the loft, or the air around them. "Gods, I'm such a fool! How could I not have noticed Tywin's assistant?" She pondered on, long auburn hair tickling the crook of petyr's neck. It hit, a feeling of loss and sadness. All the anger was used against people everyday just to keep sane. Fingers curled into the white sleeves of his shirt, paper crumbling beneath her hands, gaze adverted towards the window. Rain, it poured from the midnight sky, painting windows all over the city. It was quite calming, evenings of the past similar to this. Family huddled near windows as storms would rage on and their father would tell of old tales and myths. She had no one, a time so long ago. Now she had Petyr, a man who had been willing to be there since the begining. He had always been there, willing to risk dirtying his hands if it came to her. Letting the world that failed them burn, let them rebuild it into what they saw fit.

"Your sister, she's well at disguise. The short hair probably keeps her unnoticed, and the simple fact that no one knew your sister as well as they did you." He said in an undertone, knuckles brushing gently against her soft cheek. Voice confident, yet worry laid beneath.

Arya, the assistant—the forgotten.

  
In Petyr's mind, she knew her sister seemed to be an obstacle in whatever he was doing. Another life to protect, to keep safe until Sansa could get a hold of her family. "If she worries you, my sister seems protected by Tywin. What you have planned won't involve her, hence you don't have to worry Petyr." She said low, hands wrapped around his neck and heaving herself up to a straddle. A smirk grew, moss green eyes boring into her blue pools. The devilish look crossing his expression. "You were just stressed over the fact that she and your brother were in foster care; now they're perfectly fine in the hands of Tywin?" He chuckled lightly, grip tight on her waist. She rolled her eyes, head resting on his.

"What happens tomorrow, I think it's best they stay with Tywin under the last name stone." A chaste kiss lingering between them. The heat between them stirring, breaths of mint and lemon, hum of thunder cracking outside.

The clatter of rain drizzling on.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOSH, wow so my brain is melting. I have been for two days straight with only naps, do writing this chapter was a big struggle for my nocturnal ass. 
> 
> Anyways! Here's the chapter, hope y'all enjoy. Criticism is appreciated since this is a practice piece.
> 
> (Btw, I need to edit this but at the moment I don't have time. So some minor errors might in there.)


	3. Golden Mockingbirds and Silver Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were just a strange mix, a creation of love from obsession and mutual care. Sealed by the gift of a bird; truce between predator and prey. Yes, a strange mix indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also thanks to Expected_Aberrance for the comment (it kept me going lol)

Wind blew by gently. Kissing over soft skin and fine hair.  
Cooling off the sweat that formed in her hands, chilling the condensation formed between glass and porcelain.  
It had been a week. No communication, no warmth that emitted the smell of him; just her and the unknown. Most likely the main reasons to her trembling. A touch of uncertainty pulling rear of her mind. The eyes of everyone on her, heated glares, and the hope that one of those judging eyes were her sister's.  
  
The wedding had concluded and now she found herself seated next to the infamous imp, Tyrion Lannister. They both must have carried the looks of boredom, for Tyrion would've never started taking.  
"Is my nephew's after party boring you, Miss. Stark?" His words pierced, drunk and solemn, a drop of amusement. Sansa thought to let him prattle on, she found her mouth dry and mind barely set on the man beside her. "I know it's not jealousy. We both can agree he's not the most liked boy in the world." He said, smile lazy as he gulped another glass of wine. The short man had been right, as she found herself searching the room. Looking for him.

Besides spotting a grin, she finally drank in the scenery.  
The day was bright and warm, white tables set a fashion that reminded her of people bowing to the ones in power. With the exsquisite greenery, fine food, and ever serving employees forced to show up. Her hand quivered, lifting the sweaty glass to her licked red lips. Fear had stilled in her, a heavyweight growing deep in her gut as wine tried to wash it away. Something was going to happen, either that or something was wrong. He wasn't there, the shine of silver threads didn't appear, the accustomed smirk she'd grown to love. Although his absence, it wasn't just him she worried about. The thought of her sister being forever trapped in the jaws of a lion made her shiver. If she failed to pull the rug out from under them everything would be gone. The chance of saving what was left of her family, knowing the feel of freedom from the lies she was surrounded with. Petyr was a liar, that's something she couldn't escape, but it seemed he had been willing to give half the truth.  
Digits rubbed over fine gold, skin brushing the engraved birds for relief. She needed that, the reminder that the end of their was to be met soon, reassure herself that it was almost. All the shit and pressure, the grief and waisted time of crying.

She sighed, Tyrion's voice droning in her ear as she spaced out, eyes fixated on the thoughts in her mind. Yet suddenly it stopped, his voice went quiet as another peaked over it.

The touch of frail hands dusted over her shoulder yanked Sansa from her thought sanctuary, soft irises and a gentle forced smile claiming the current train her mind rode.  
"My sweet girl, you've grown—and It seems you've gotten cold like your father." Mrs. Tyrell jested, patting her covered shoulder. "Oh! It seems you have attained yourself a nice taste in fashion; or should I say men?" The words were planned and well thought, practically curved into a strange smile as she spoke. Clues to only what Olenna knew. Yet, it was a hint for Sansa. Plus a slap in the face to stop acting so aloof.  
In a rush she turned her head down abashedly, gaze settling upon the seal that marked porcelain skin. The feel of the aged lady's hands feeling the necklace around her neck, a genuine grin pulling at her old lips. Her final words now ringing as she found herself in a different environment; a faint memory of Joffrey laying in the dressed garden clinging to what little life he had left.

"Enjoy the wedding, my sweet."

A hand rested on her thigh, another gently catching the panicked breaths that escaped her. The sound of a quieting voice flowing in from behind. His familiar manipulated accent easing the tightness in her lungs, hand falling gently from her mouth to her arm. The press of his lips and chin resting into the Auburn hair, mint breath rolling off her body in soothing waves.  
Sansa melted into Petyr with relief, the chuckle rumbling in his chest warming her.  
"It's taken care of, Sweetling. You can rest; just two more Lion's—" words fell off as they were stolen away by her lips, as she turned around in the seat of an idle boat straddling him. Petyr's smile grazing softly, the caress of a knuckle treading carefully up her thigh. "Petyr, you do way too much for me. I haven't even been holding up to my end of the deal." Her hands found his stubbly cheeks, forehead pulled to hers as she looked at him and his growing snakelike smile. Those dark green eyes boring into her blue pearls.

"Sansa, you being in my arms is equal to what I wanted. Besides, you still learned quite a few things from today—don't fret my little wolf." He murmured in the air between them, finger tracing her jaw until reaching her chin. "Now about your brother and sister, I found an excuse to get your little sis' to work under me. Tywin wasn't thrilled, so for now it's temporary." He said, making Sansa pull him closer, a kiss not needed.

"Thank you, Petyr." Her words short of a whisper.

"We still have much to do, my love. Don't thank me yet." He said, breathing in the scent of her.

Mint and lemon. Wine and whiskey. Golden mockingbirds and silver wolves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm gonna be honest, this was hella shorter than my mind had intended it to be. But for some reason, no matter how many times I started over it just wasn't working. I just got asoiaf recently and I think reading that is throwing off my plots lol. So if this ending disappoints I'll simply just say I might rewrite this.
> 
> I hope you peeps enjoyed and thank you for reading! :>
> 
> P.s. I'm going to start another relatively short story. I'm debating the era it'll take place but just know it will focus around music and shady business.
> 
> Alright farewell mates!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest I've ever written, bare with me if the other part takes a while.


End file.
